


Kitchen table issues

by MedeaV



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Jealousy, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 18:04:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16310078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MedeaV/pseuds/MedeaV
Summary: Sure, Natasha is in favor of her boyfriend doing whatever's necessary for his mission, but watching him do it still strikes a chord.





	Kitchen table issues

“Alright, so what if we compare this list with the known contacts of Helveden,” Sam suggests. “We have that, right?”

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” Clint replies, rubbing his neck. “Barnes has it.”

“Then we call him?” Sam suggests. “He can’t be super far.”

Clint snorts. “Yeah, tried that. Doesn’t pick up.”

Sam looks to the other person in the room. “... Have you tried it from Nat’s number?”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Do I look like I have a fixed number?”

“How do you two ever  _ meet _ ?” Clint asks slash complains.

“Magic and coincidence.” Natasha dials a number. “Don’t worry, Tony probably knows where he is.”

“Good, cause I don’t need to tell you this is urgent,” Sam remarks. “Just out of curiosity, why do you think Tony knows?”

“Because he made some special tech for this mission and put a tracker on it because he doesn’t trust James,” Natasha explains. “Hey Tony. It’s urgent.”

Tony on the other end of the line snorts. “Are you ever gonna call me and say  _ Hey Stark, how are you? _ ”

“If I do, you’ll know I have a gun pointed at my head,” Natasha replies.

* * *

 

“You wanna stay in the car?” Clint suggests.

Natasha snorts, getting out. “What, because this French villa smells of pretty young heiress and it’s not even nine in the morning?”

“I only smell lavender,” Sam replies, looking around at the sandstone building, the flowerpots, the sea view. “Though you do know time.”

“Well, let’s tell the owner we need to talk to him urgently,” Clint says. “Got your glasses?”

“I would never forget my sexy secretary glasses,” Natasha mutters sarcastically, pushing them up her nose.

Sam locks the car. “So, you’re gonna talk? You’re better at talking. How’s your French?”

Clint looks at him weird. “Come on, French is easy.”

“I fucking hate when you say that,” Sam mutters, walking up the short stairs to the door and straightening his jacket before ringing the bell.

The girl who opens is pretty, dark rustled hair and big brown eyes, surprised at the intrusion, voice like she just fell out of bed. “Excusez-moi?”

She is wearing a fizzy light blouse that blows in the wind coming over the road from the Atlantic and a knee-long leather skirt. Daddy’s girl. “Bonjour,” Clint replies, smiling charmingly. “We are looking for a friend of ours and we were told he might be here.”

The girl’s eyebrows knit together like this is an incredibly intriguing idea. “What’s his name?”

Clint tilts his head and bites his lip. “Well, frankly, we’re not sure which one he told you.”

The girl laughs, turning on her heel. “Oh, that must be him. Wait, please, I’ll go wake him.”

She doesn’t close the door, so they follow her into the beach house and up the stairs. White curtains blow through the open windows. There’s breakfast on the kitchen table, croissants and coffee. Dry lavender. Sam gives Natasha a look that she pretends not to notice.

There’s only one door upstairs. The girl knocks quietly before entering. And it is James, sprawled squarely on his stomach over the king-sized bed, just in black briefs, the sheets tangled around one calf in the June heat. Soundly asleep. Natasha smiles politely. Sam rolls his eyes. The girl sits down on the bed and carefully lays a hand on his shoulder. He starts up immediately, blinking from under his tousled hair. “Bonjour,” the girl coos in French. “Sorry to wake you. Friends are asking for you.”

James blinks in even more confusion and a little bit of panic if you know how to spot it, then he sees them in the doorway and blushes. Painfully naked. The girl smiles and caresses his cheek. “D’accord? I’ll go finish my breakfast, I’m already late.”

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky replies, nervously gripping the sheets. The girl kisses his cheek, then gets up and passes them with an excusing smile.

“Seriously,” Sam says as soon as she is out of earshot. “This is where we find you?”

“Shut up,” Bucky hisses, jumping up from the bed. “I’m getting dressed. Just wait downstairs.”

“It’s urgent,” Clint adds, then turns around to head down the stairs. Natasha follows him, smiling to herself. Sam, however, makes a point of giving Bucky another accusing look.

“Don’t stab him before he gives us the list,” Clint mutters without turning his head.

“Please, we talked about this,” Natasha replies completely relaxed. “We have rules.”

The girl is looking at her phone with complete fascination. She’s cute. James could have had it a lot worse. Sam joins them downstairs. The girl looks up as if she’s forgotten about them. “Oh, pardonnez-moi! Have a seat.”

Sam looks questioningly at Clint who makes a small hand gesture, then sits down somewhere across from her, venturing a “Merci” with a strong accent. The girl smiles, completely charmed.

She spends the rest of the time on her phone, dipping the rest of her croissant in the coffee, then drinking it by the sink. Probably on Instagram. She looks like an Instagram girl. Otherwise, it’s silent. Natasha strides over to the glass door down into the garden. “Fantastic view.”

“Oh, thank you,” the girl replies without looking up. She pours the rest of the coffee in the sink, then goes looking for her handbag. Clint steps out of her way. “D’ailleurs, what do you need from Joshua?”

“Oh, just business,” Clint replies. “Nothing pleasant.”

“Well, I hope it’s not too unpleasant,” the girl replies as James comes down the stairs.

“We’ll see about that,” Clint says. “Are you leaving?”

“Yes, I have a date with a girlfriend,” the girl confirms, smiling at James and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Don’t worry, mon chéri, I’ll be back soon.”

James has gotten his act perfectly back together, putting his hands on her waist and smiling teasingly. “Wouldn’t want the champagne to go bad.”

“No, mon chéri, we wouldn’t want that,” she agrees, getting on her toes to press her lips to his and he buries his hand in her dark hair, leaning in all the way, and it’s a long, long six seconds.

She’s breathless when she falls back on her heels. Sam looks completely scandalized which she doesn’t notice. Natasha looks out of the window again. Clint just waits patiently. “Ah, mon loup, I’m going to miss you. But I really have to go.”

Bucky steals another kiss before spinning her around by the hips. “Of course. Have fun, and come back soon.”

She laughs, flipping her hair over her shoulder, waves to all of them and breezes out of the door with an “Au revoir”. Sam exhales loudly as soon as the door falls shut. “Wow. Just the  _ nerve  _ on you.”

“You didn’t have to barge in like that,” Bucky replies sourly, making a show out of wiping his mouth. Natasha smiles, still looking out of the window. “Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah, actually, we did,” Clint interrupts. “You have the file on Helveden, don’t you?”

Bucky snorts. “Oh, that’s why. Yeah, sure, give me a moment.”

“Oh, we didn’t drag your girlfriend here to see that just for fun,” Sam assures him.

“Let it go, Sam,” Natasha interrupts, striding over to peek through the kitchen jalousie.

“Just give us the file and we’ll be out of your hair,” Clint says to Bucky who’s loosening something behind the chimney. “The fake arm looks good, by the way.”

“I’m sure he’s made ample use of that,” Sam remarks sarcastically.

“Stop being jealous,” Natasha rejects, turning around. “I’ll make him tell me every painstaking detail of that sooner or later.”

Bucky grimaces, pulling out a bunch of thin folders. “Here. Which one are you looking for again?”

Clint takes the folders out of his hand to see for himself. Natasha pretends she’s super interested in the contents of the cupboards. Bucky crosses his arms uncomfortably. Sam is still staring at him accusingly.

“Ah, here it is,” Clint announces, putting one on the table in front of Sam. “Let’s see…”

While Sam and Clint pore over the file, Natasha gives Bucky a quick smirk but starts walking away before he can say something. “Ah, here it is,” Clint exclaims, pulling out a sheet of paper. “Come on, we can look at that in the car. We’ve already lost too much time.”

Sam gets up. Natasha leans against the table. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

Sam gives Bucky another look but he and Clint both leave the room. Bucky closes the door. Natasha smirks. “Well, it’s been a while. I see that you could have it worse.”

Bucky snorts, leaning against the chimney across from her. “I had to take Instagram selfies with her.”

Natasha grins. “I’ll check that out. So, you didn’t sleep with her?”

“Of course not,” Bucky replies. Saying they have rules is an overstatement; they have one rule (don’t sleep with other people) and a very long and meticulous discussion about what qualifies as that (hand jobs and fingering and the likes). “I’m just pushing so she thinks she can tease me by waiting.”

“Darling,” Natasha says. “You’re awfully good at this.”

“That’s something, coming from you,” Bucky remarks, smirking. “You didn’t even blink. You could’ve waited in the car.”

“Then I wouldn’t’ve seen you,” Natasha returns. “You know what you should also do?”

James looks intrigued at the prospect of getting her advice. “Yeah?”

Natasha keeps a straight face. “Fuck me on her kitchen table.”

The intrigued look breaks into a grin. “I thought you were in a hurry.”

“Ah, I’m sure they can do without me for a bit.” Natasha tilts her head back to hear better. “Guys?”

“Yeah?” Clint calls back unenthusiastically. His voice is loud and clear, leaving no doubt that they heard every word spoken in the kitchen.

“Mind if I rejoin you later?” Natasha suggests.

Clint groans. Sam mutters something about “he better not fuck that up too”. “Fine,” Clint calls back. “But we’re taking the car.”

“I’ll find a way,” Natasha replies, pushing Bucky’s hand away from her belt. “Thanks, see you.”

“And Barnes?” Sam calls, resulting in James having to pull his nose out of her hair. “You better make her lose her mind, if you know what I’m saying.”

“I didn’t hear that,” Natasha pretends while James snorts with amusement. “Bye.”

He noses her neck but she waits with her arms crossed until the door falls closed. She grins. “Sure you didn’t sleep with her?”

“Would’ve noticed,” he replies, more preoccupied with her belt, now that she’s letting him. “A little jealous, hm?”

“Oh boy.” Natasha pulls her shirt over her head. “You have no idea. Just how she touches you all the time- like she owns you.”

Bucky smirks, kissing down to her breasts. “Sounds horrible.”

“Totally,” Natasha agrees, slipping her hands into his back pockets. “And I had to watch you smooching for a whole six seconds. I counted.”

“Sorry about that,” James remarks, kissing the corner of her mouth. “I know you hate that.”

Natasha snorts, grabbing his head and pulling him in. “Be glad you didn’t touch her ass. I’d make you worship me on your knees for at least half an hour before I even consider letting you inside of me.”

“Doesn’t sound that bad,” James remarks innocently, grabbing her hips and steering her towards the short side of the table where there is no chair.

Natasha snorts. “I don’t have forever. Kiss me, you idiot.”

He does, with the same enthusiasm as he had for that girl, a thought Natasha deliberately ignores. She almost tastes her. God. She pushes him back. “Okay, nope. On your knees.”

He’s pulling at her shoes before she’s even sitting on the table. She shakes them off. His eyes are still bright, not minding the punishment, enjoying it in fact. She holds her foot in front of his face. “Socks off. Suck on the toes.”

His thumb rubs the arch of her foot and he grins before taking the big toe into his mouth. Natasha sighs, folding her hands in her lap. “Been a while, hasn’t it? Good to see you back in your place.”

James snorts around her toe, digging in his thumb to the point where it’s almost painful. Natasha wriggles her foot until he kisses his way over the top. “Really too bad you can’t talk back right now, don’t you think?”

He bites above her ankle, making her flinch. “Can I take off your pants? Pretty please?”

“Well, since you’re asking so nicely,” Natasha replies, slipping off the table. Her belt is open already anyway. James gets up but gets distracted by his hands on her ass. “Come on. We’re not getting ahead here.”

“Really,” James states with a serious face, still kneading her behind. “You think so?”

Natasha snorts, getting to her toes to try to distract him with a kiss but she can’t reach. “What happened to pants off?”

“Oh, right.” He smiles, giving her a quick kiss and her ass another squeeze. “Almost forgot.”

She snorts again while he wriggles her ankles out of her pants. “Your new girlfriend will come back.”

“Ah, she won’t,” he assures her, running his hand over the inside of her thigh. “You don’t know how much time she can spend with a glass of prosecco. Also, I don’t care.”

Natasha sighs, closing her eyes. “Fine. Go ahead.”

He teases his way up with his fingers. “With what? Gotta be more specific.”

She opens her eyes just to roll them at him. “Come on. And if you rip my panties, I’ll punch you in the face.”

He grins, lowering her back on the table while effortlessly opening her bra. “Note taken. You still need some work or…?”

“I don’t know, go check,” Natasha says, raising her hips. “And if I taste her on your lips again, I swear to God.”

He drops to his knees without hesitation, carefully peeling her panties off. Natasha grins at the ceiling while he licks over her folds. “Oh, you don’t know how much I would enjoy her coming in right now.”

“Not as much as you will her not coming in,” he replies in a husky voice before pushing his tongue into her. He’s probably wrong. No, he’s probably right. His tongue rubs around her entrance deliciously.

His thumb finds her clit. The left. Not that it matters, now. She sighs at his careful ministrations. “When was the last time you turned that off?”

“Last time we fucked,” he replies barely intelligible. “Month or so.”

“Mhm.” She lets her head drop to the side. She can see the Atlantic through the kitchen window. “Hate it?”

He rubs a little more firmly. “Kinda.”

“Funny, isn’t it,” she breathes, jerking up suddenly. “Ah! Careful.”

He grins, switching his mouth and his fingers. She rolls her eyes, settling back. “Just saying. You used to hate the metal.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, flapping his tongue against her. “But right now, it means I have to make out with that other girl. Of course I prefer bending you over.”

Natasha blushes just thinking about last time. Boy, she had been needy. Wax in his hands. The jealousy was keeping that down right now, at least. “Told you you wouldn’t get to take me from behind again.”

“What, sounded a lot like you enjoyed it,” he retorts smugly, neglecting her clit but crooking his fingers to prevent her from coming up with a sarcastic reply that would detract from the memory of her begging him to go harder. “I like seeing your ass while we fuck. But if you’d rather not, I don’t need it.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve been over that,” Natasha interrupts, arching her back mostly so that he can’t see her face. “Now do something useful with that mouth, for Christ’s sake.”

Ordering him around is much better for her pride and her sense of independence. Also, she really needs him to suck on her clit. She relaxes when his fingers rub over the certain part of her inner wall, then tenses up again, breath accelerating, back arching, and comes in less than 15 seconds. How it’s supposed to be. He gets the angle a little wrong after that so it takes a bit more work each time but he rubs her insistently with only short breath catching pauses after orgasms. His tongue toys with the nub of her clitoris. After a few minutes and half a dozen orgasms, she realizes he’s not stopping. Right. Left hand. They could still be here in a couple of hours when Bambi has finished guzzling her prosecco and going over all the gossip with her equally bitchy girlfriend. Unless Natasha gets sore first.

She’s kind of fine with that, at the moment. He focuses a bit more on the sucking without stopping the fingering. Half an hour, she said? Ah, she can’t do that. Ah. Feels good, though. But Clint is going to be pissed. And she’ll be so fucked out she’d say yes to everything. After having been a total slut last time, that’d give James a wrong impression of her, now that they see each other so little. Jesus Christ, she still worries about what her boyfriend thinks about her. After all this time. Ah, fuck. She comes again.

His mouth still gets tired, though, so he stops sucking after a bit. Fingering is also fine with her, but God, she longs for something bigger. She wiggles her toes to make sure she can still move. Oh, she can. But she can also lie on Bambi’s kitchen table staring out of Bambi’s window with the sea view and get pleasured by her boyfriend who is hers alone, no matter what. Then again, getting his dick inside of her, because that’s the only place he gets to stick it…

Her thought process is interrupted by another orgasm. Okay, God, that’s enough. She pushes against his forehead, too lazy to make words or sentences. He pulls out his fingers, licking them clean, then laps up the rest of her juices. She almost comes again just from that. She looks at him mesmerized when he gets back on his feet. “James?”

He smirks, putting his hands on her thighs and leaning forward. “Hm?”

She grins up at him, stomach fluttering. “Drop your pants.”

“Oh God, you’re still bossy,” he remarks amusedly, pulling his socks off.

“Why did you even get dressed in the first place,” Natasha asks, hands splayed over her stomach, while he strips down to his briefs. “I and Bambi certainly wouldn’t have minded.”

He snorts. “You always call them that.”

“Yeah, cause they are cute and all,” Natasha admits. “But also wrapped up in some really dirty shit.”

He drops the briefs as well. Oh boy, the anticipation. “I doubt the real Bambi had that many skeletons in its closet. Without condom?”

Natasha grins. “Sure, if you didn’t sleep with her. Why are you asking, did she already get some in anticipation of fucking you?”

He snorts, positioning himself between her legs. “I doubt they’re specifically for me, but, yeah. Bedside drawer.”

Natasha doesn’t get to answer because he pushes into her. God, the friction. She digs her heels into his ass and pulls him all the way in. Ah. Yeah, that’s precisely what she wanted. She’d probably be dripping on the floor by now if he hadn’t cleaned her with his tongue earlier.

There is nothing but her on his lips now, not even when she swipes her tongue through his mouth. He groans. He’s holding her hips at the right angle, too, so she suddenly jerks up, contracting around him. God. She’s so glad Bambi doesn’t get to do that. She drops her head and shoulders, basking in it for a moment. James starts fucking her.

Her sweaty back sticks on the table already. Well, unlike him, she already has the bulk of her orgasms behind her. Probably. Sometimes, it’s… but probably not without a condom.

She grabs his shoulders and pulls him and her together halfway, showering him with devouring kisses. Hers. He’s hers. She can’t scratch his back to remind him but he probably gets the message anyway. No, she’s not insecure. God, she wishes she could mark him in some way but she can’t if he’s lounging almost naked in another woman’s bed. Fuck. She throws her head back, letting the convulsions wash over her.

“How’s your mind?” he asks, voice strained, and she doesn’t get what he’s talking about. She gets the way his dick is pounding into her and that’s about it. Her confusion must be showing, either on her face or in her silence. “Well, Sam said I had to, so…”

“I don’t give a fuck what Sam says,” Natasha replies, meeting his thrusts. “But yeah, do what you have to.”

He snorts, clearly not satisfied with her answer. “Come on. If you’re not there yet, I’ll find a way.”

His self-control is, frankly, admirable but also nowhere near infinite. She groans when he has the nerve to slow down. “Don’t do that. I’d rather have you come earlier than get fucked flimsily.”

He rolls his eyes, picking up the pace where he left off. “So you’re… semi-out of your mind?”

She’s sweating, that’s for certain. “Guess so,” she moans. “Can’t always have five-star-sex, right? Sometimes, four has to be enough.”

James looks personally offended. “Four?”

“And a half,” she adds. “As long as you’re not fucking Bambi better…”

He snorts. “That arrogant bitch? Oh, hell no.”

“All I wanted to hear,” Natasha manages before succumbing to the throes of her orgasm. He’s licking her breasts when her head stops spinning, smile on his lips. “And her ass isn’t all that great.”

James makes an affirmative noise, squeezing her ass with his left and also slowly starting to rock into her again. Natasha grins. “Then again, maybe I don’t have the best ass in the world either.”

“Lies,” James breathes against her skin. “Nothing but lies.”

She lets her head drop to the side again, staring out of the window hazily. She’s not that pressed anymore so she lets him pick a comfortable pace. The magic of a dozen orgasms. If you divided that over a month, you’d get around three orgasms a week. Seems reasonable. She smirks, looking at the kitchen. “Mhm, but maybe you should bend her over the sink so she can look at the ocean while you bang her. Maybe she’d like that.”

He groans. “I don’t give that much of a damn about what she wants. And stop pretending I’ll cheat on you just because you said no to me coming from behind.”

She knows he won’t, but that doesn’t stop her from thinking about it. She’s not insecure. She’s so comfortable in her own skin she doesn’t even feel slutty for begging him last time. And bringing that up now doesn’t say anything at all. She moans a little louder at his thrusts.

He groans again, visibly tense. “What about you? What do you want?”

“Oh, you can finish like that,” Natasha replies, turning her head towards him. “I think I already plateaued.”

He kisses her and a fresh wave of arousal curses through her lower body. Maybe he could wring another orgasm from her if he really tried. Boy, if she had let him toil longer on his knees, she would probably be nowhere near done. Sky’s the limit.

He’s not going particularly fast because he can’t anymore, but she’s also sensitive so it’s for the best. She smirks, threading her legs over his shoulders so she’s essentially folded in half. Yeah, feels much better. He smirks back briefly, lifting up her ass. She groans. Oh God, she’s not done. Not at all. “Faster.”

“Bossy,” he remarks, leaning in to bite her neck. She snorts, digging her heels into his back, pulling herself up against him. Fuck. Yes. He groans, slowing down again. She grabs onto his hair, hard. Barely catches herself before sinking her nails into his back. He bites his lip, stopping for a second before throwing caution and control out of the window, pounding into her at a brutal pace. She gasps and moans, arching up against him. She tries to slip a hand between them because she needs to get there, right now, but can’t manage it and just drops back and takes it. Hangs in for the ride. She barely feels how she’s being thrust around, only where he hits her inner wall and how that sends shivers through her. She turns her fingertips up for fear of losing control. Her sudden contractions push him over the edge.

She drops back onto the table, breathing heavily, while he still holds on to her thighs like a madman. She bites her lip when she feels him throbbing inside of her. Always gets her. It’s such a small motion, compared to what he was doing to her before, but somehow it’s just as effective, if not more. Maybe because it’s unexpected. Or because she likes him coming inside of her.

He drops his head next to hers on the table. Her heaving chest presses against her shoulders. She smiles and turns her head to kiss his cheek. “Hey.”

He snorts, pushing himself up slowly to look at her. “You’re gonna run away again, aren’t you?”

“Yup.” She stretches, her back sticking to the table. “But I’m glad I stayed.”

“If you say four and a half stars again, I swear to God,” he threatens, pushing his hair out of his sweaty face.

“Don’t make me rate everything,” she replies, stretching her legs. “And you better wipe the table before Bambi comes back.”

He sighs, gripping the edge of the table. “You know I could… stop? If it really bothers you. Like, not right now, that would be really inconvenient but-”

“It’s okay,” Natasha interrupts, touching his chest. “I don’t have to like it but getting planted in the mob, you gotta do what you gotta do. I don’t tell you what I do either. And blasting in like that is not fair, I should have stayed in the car. Just wanted to see you.”

He smirks, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Didn’t like what you saw?”

“Oh boy,” she replies. “Makes my blood boil just thinking about it. Oh, and you better find a real good excuse why you can’t sleep with her really soon, cause you looked just delicious in that bed.”

He snorts. “I’m not gonna be around here much longer, don’t worry.”

Natasha groans when he slips out of her. “Reassuring, indeed. I have no fucking clue where that list leads us, unfortunately.”

She holds her knees to her chest while he gets a wet cloth. “Do you ever worry because our relationship essentially consists of scheduling hook-ups?”

“All the time,” Natasha admits, looking at the ceiling. “We should, I don’t know, have dinner or something and talk stuff over. But then, every time I see you… can’t help it.”

“That’s such a good excuse,” he remarks, carefully wiping between her legs. “Like, you’re always in perfect control of your emotions and reactions, but you just can’t help fucking me?”

She snorts. “You’ve been undercover for too long. Gone completely cynical.”

“Maybe,” he admits, putting the cloth down and pushing a finger inside of her.

“Oh God.” Her back arches again. “Really? And now you think I’m not going to disappear as long as you’re fingering me?”

He snorts. “We really need some time off. Both of us. A week without any distractions. A weekend, if that’s all there is.”

She smirks, breathing faster. “Mhm. You don’t think we can fuck for a week straight?”

“Darling,” he says. “You’re gonna get hungry at some point.”

“Right. Forgot food existed,” she admits, clutching onto his arm.

“I keep wishing the world would just… stop.” He shakes his head. “Deep conversations while fucking are kind of our specialty, right? Always have been.”

“Never enough time,” Natasha manages, groaning. “Yes.”

He doesn’t say anything, just gets her off. She smirks suddenly, cooling down. “And you really let her call you  _ my wolf _ ?”

He snorts. “Oh, boy, I’m so glad when I’m out of here.”


End file.
